


Alone

by Dragonlingdar



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Developing Friendships, Female Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-23 11:18:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19700287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonlingdar/pseuds/Dragonlingdar
Summary: For the past 8 years, Primrose has done everything alone; however, a traveling with seven other people has made her reconsider.





	Alone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Seasonal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seasonal/gifts).



> I think this counts as a sort of found family? I hope you enjoy!
> 
> As an aside, I am not your assigned creator; nevertheless, I hope you are satisfied by my offering as well.
> 
> As I come from Ye Olde Days of Fandom: Nothing Octopath Traveler belongs to me.

Primrose had lived her whole childhood surrounded by people. Family, friends, servants and vassals. She had never known a moment of loneliness when she was young, cradled by love and beauty. So when, suddenly, all of that was gone, when she was left with nothing but hatred and a desire for vengeance, it came as a shock.

Vassals and servants fled. Friends turned on her or abandoned her. She had no family to speak of. 

She was utterly alone and it was paralyzing.

It took a day to pull herself out of a darkness that consumed even her rage, although she swung back into the numbness of  _ alone _ upon burying her father. The only way she broke through the malady of  _ alone _ was by weaponizing her sorrow, cultivating it into a consuming desire for revenge; and, thus, she chased after even the shadow of a Crow.

_ But, now two are dead and I know where the third waits _ , Primrose thought as she ran her traced the deadly curves of her dagger with her eyes. 

They were spending the night in Saintsbridge, traveling together so Olberic could find his redemption in Riverford; the group had promised to help Primrose secure her revenge next; Primrose didn’t mind the delay. Simeon wasn’t going anywhere and she still needed time to physically and emotionally recover from their last interaction. The stab wound hurt less and looked a little better each day, but Primrose was sure it was going to scar.

_ Unfortunate, but I am not surprised that I was unable to complete my revenge unscathed,  _ she thought, her fingers pressing lightly against the bandages.

"Primrose?"

Primrose looked up to see Ophilia enter the room that she, Tressa, and H’aanit were all sharing. Ophilia set her ever-present staff against the wall and walked over to Primrose after closing the door. "May I offer my own healing?" she asked. "Alfyn has done all he can with his herbs, but we are moving faster than is advisable for you, I feel."

Primrose looked at the bandage that covered her torso. Before she met Ophilia--before she met any of them--she would have insisted that she would be okay. That she was healing fine on her own. That she didn’t need help. That she could do everything alone.

_ But, now...that has changed, _ she thought.

“Very well,” Primrose said aloud.

Ophilia gave her a bright, gentle smile. “Thank you.”

The young woman knelt before her and began to slowly unwind the bandages. “It’s truly miraculous, the work that Alfyn can do with his tinctures and herbal remedies.”

“Not particularly. A man with enough insight and dedication can make the same remedies Alfyn does--the truly miraculous moments are when he is  _ quiet _ .”

Ophilia giggled. “He does like to talk. Him and Cyrus never seem to stop chatting with each other.”

“As long as it keeps them both occupied, I see no true problem with it,” Primrose murmured. “Although I am grateful for Alfyn's skill.”

“Have you told Alfyn that?”

“No. It would go to his head.”

Ophilia gently pulled off the final pad of cloth to reveal the stab wound that had been stitched closed. It still leaked a little fluid from time to time, but Alfyn had assured her that such was part of the healing process and that he had used all his skill to make sure that nothing would poison her blood and kill her from the inside. 

Ophilia’s gloved hands began to glow with a pearlescent light and she touched just to either side of the edges of the wound. Primrose’s skin prickled as  _ warmth _ radiated out from Ophilia’s fingertips, the sensation both pleasurable and soothing. 

_ What manner of woman is she, that she commands the power of the gods so easily? _ Primrose wondered.  _ I have seen the Lady of Grace in my dreams, but it seems as if Ophilia actually  _ knows _ Aelfric. _

After a few long minutes, Ophilia pulled her hands back and a couple stitches fell away from Primrose’s body at even that small movement. 

“The healing is not entirely complete,” Ophilia said. “I feel that it is always better to rely more on the body’s own healing capabilities than the divine, but I...dislike seeing you in pain, and more than just I have noticed your discomfort.”

“Is that why Sir Olberic offered to carry me a few times?” Primrose asked, amused. 

Ophilia nodded. “And why Tressa offered to haggle for a donkey, so you may sit on it and travel more comfortably, regardless of what Therion may have implied.”

Primrose smirked slightly. “Therion is worried, too, he just shows it poorly.”

Ophilia looked mildly incredulous, but nodded slowly. “How do you feel now?”

Primrose did a few gentle stretches and twists, and while the wound did still twinge a little bit, it didn’t hurt anywhere near as much as it used to.

“You really are quite powerful,” Primrose said and ran her fingers along where the stitches had popped out. 

Ophilia blushed a little and smiled. “It’s less powerful and more humbled. I am...glad that I’m worthy of wielding such abilities as I have been given.” Her hand fell to her hip as she stood, her fingers brushing against the lantern that held the ember of the Flame. “Although I admit that I have grown stronger since I have been carrying even just this  _ shard _ of the divine.”

“Do you ever feel alone, Ophilia, carrying such power?” Primrose asked.

Ophilia looked thoughtful. “That is not a question that I have truly considered,” Ophilia said. “My bonds--with you, with the others, with my sister and father and all those I help--remind me that I’m not alone. I may be able to  _ do _ things that some can never fathom performing, but that only means that I am obliged to assist however and whenever I can. The world is in need of so much healing--how can I deny or hoard my skill when I can provide help and light to those who need it?”

“You consider my friendship a bond worth having?” Primrose asked.

“You may sometimes be as sharp as the thorns of your namesake, but you’re a good person,” Ophilia said with a smile. “I’m glad that I have had the opportunity to get to know you.”

“You think I’m a good person...even after I have killed two men in cold blood?”

“I will never understand vengeance,” Ophilia admitted. “However, I  _ do _ understand the pain of losing a father, even if mine succumbed to time, not the blade of another. That is a grief I am familiar with.”

“That’s right, your father…”

Ophilia nodded, soft sadness settling on her features. “I miss him, and it hurts to know he is gone, regardless of what I told Lianna about remembering him how he was and not dwell on his death.”

“Your sister is lucky to have you,” Primrose murmured. “I…”

“You can be my sister, too, Primrose.”

Primrose frowned sharply. “What?”

“Grief is hard to bear alone,” Ophilia said and sat down on the bed next to Primrose. “And you have done so for  _ years _ . You’re so  _ strong _ , Primrose.”

Primrose looked away. “I had to be strong because I was the only one I could rely on.”

“But now you have us,” Ophilia said. “Faith may be your shield, but let us be your support.”

“You...how can you…?” Primrose said, an emotion that she couldn’t quite name choking her. 

Ophilia covered one of Primrose’s hands with her own and said, “We’re all here for you, Primrose. We want to see you smile--even if some people are bad at expressing that.”

“I...I think that I want to smile, too,” Primrose said softly after a long silence.

“Then, let’s practice,” Ophilia said. “Look at me.”

Primrose did so and found Ophilia looking as serious as when she had been facing down Mattias and rescuing her sister. Ever so slowly, however, her eyes softened, her shoulders relaxed, and her lips began to pull into the smallest of smiles. 

Primrose was a dancer--she knew how to mimic the movements of another. So, even though she merely followed Ophilia’s lead to start, she found that, in spite of herself, her own smile slowly became genuine.

_ Perhaps she is right, _ Primrose thought.  _ Perhaps I’m not alone anymore.  _


End file.
